Don't Screw It Up
by accidentalauthoress
Summary: FP's musings on Bughead.


It was a Sunday morning, so obviously I wasn't surprised that Betty was over. Hell, I'd have been more surprised had she not been. But Betty doesn't know me, so she's still going through her morning ritual of trying to tiptoe around, change out of her pajamas and tie up her hair, and make a big show of re-entering through the front door. As always, I'll pretend to believe her.

Some days, she and Jughead will jet out the door immediately, hot on the trail of something I don't know about and that would give me even more gray hairs if I did. Those days, I go about my business, they go about theirs, and I try to ignore the little pangs of worry that I can't seem to shove back beneath my consciousness. Between Jughead's impulsivity and both of their lack of street smarts, I swear they'll get themselves killed one day. But I see the spark light in both of their eyes every time they come across a new mystery, and I know I don't have the heart to stop them.

There's also days when they sit around here, peppering the living room with notes and theories and caffeine-fueled antics that make my head spin. Their rhythm seems to move at the speed of sound; they have this uncanny ability to keep up with each other's trains of thoughts far after everyone else is lost. No matter how much the world tilts and shifts around them, they're always locked onto the same wavelength together. And then, during the rare moments when they're still, I want to scream at Jughead to not take it for granted. I see him lay an arm around her, lazily, and stroke her shoulder while his eyes are on the tv and hers are studying him. That girl never seems to stop thinking, for better or for worse.

I swore once that Alice was held together with nothing more than a pack of cigarettes and sheer spite. As much as Betty strove to be the opposite of her mother, it was apparent that her seams were similarly taut and ready to tear, instead glued together with bubblegum and gut-wrenching panic. I never believed that diamonds were a girl's best friend – at least not the Cooper girls. Their best friend was repression.

Over the last year, I've watched as Jughead has tried to shelter Betty from the waves crashing around the both of them. I've watched as he's tried to save her from herself, tried to understand the chaos going on inside of her. I've watched him try to learn when to push her and when to back off, as much as he may hate it. My son is more observant than I've ever been and ever will be, but I'm picking up on things that he's missing while he absorbs himself in his investigations. I've had the luxury, and the curse, of seeing all of this before and fucking it up. I've seen the little half-moon marks on Alice's – Betty's - palms that she pretends don't exist. I've seen her grit her teeth and try to push herself through a conversation as though nothing is wrong. I've seen her pull at her ponytail again and again, as though she can tighten it enough to keep all of the thoughts inside. I've seen, more than once, her breath hitch and quicken, before she makes an excuse to walk away from Jughead and try to snap herself out of her panic. I was too clueless to see it before. I see it now.

Jughead's young. He takes for granted that she'll always be there. I learned the hard way that's not true, and I would tell him so much if he cared what I have to say. I see the adoration in his eyes every time he glances at her. I see how only the joy of seeing and talking to her can bring him out of his brooding. I see his hope. All I can do is sit, watch, and hope that for his sake he doesn't screw it up. He'll never regret anything more, and if I watch him shatter I know I'll break down all over again.

Alice and I ended in flame and ash. While I can hope to god there's a really fucking late to the party phoenix in there somewhere, I'll never forgive myself for what I've lost. My mistake came when I realized when push came to shove, Alice's courage outmatched mine, not for the first time and not for the last. Thank god, it doesn't take a whole lot to be stronger than I am. Jughead has a chance of making it in this world, and with her.

I've never been prouder of him for becoming the man I couldn't. 


End file.
